Come Back to Me
by CharlotteAshmore
Summary: Rumpelstiltskin has a change of heart after he banishes Belle from the castle. What lengths will he go to in order to convince her to come home? o/s


**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. This is a work of pure fiction. All characters and events depicted in this story are entirely fictitious. Any similarity to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

 **Summary:** Rumpelstiltskin has a change of heart after he banishes Belle from the castle. What lengths will he go to in order to convince her to come home?

 **Tags:** *Belle/Rumpelstiltskin, *Regina, *Maurice, *Grumpy, *post Skin Deep (sort of), *A buttload of Angst, *Fluffified fluff, *Smutty goodness

 **A/N:** Just a little idea I've been playing around with for a while. Hope you enjoy! Please read and review … thanks xoxoxo. Another re-posting for your reading pleasure.

 **Come Back to Me**

By:

CharlotteAshmore

He was a complete and utter fool. He was willing to admit it, at least to himself, and it had taken him several days to work up the courage to do so. The Great Hall was an utter shambles, broken glass from his curio cabinet, shards of china from Belle's favorite tea set, trinkets, treasures and whatnot … all destroyed in a fit of temper. The Dark One's lip curled back over his teeth as he surveyed the destruction with a snarl of disgust. Even the grand dining table had a deep groove in its surface where his magic had marked it. All over a girl.

Rumpelstiltskin's heart fluttered painfully, deep lines appearing on his brow as he thought of his Belle. She was no ordinary girl. It didn't matter how he tried to delude himself, there was no denying the truth. It had been true love's kiss they'd shared. He'd felt the darkness draining from his slender frame, leaving him weak and disoriented. Vulnerable. A low growl erupted from his chest as his boots crunched over the detritus spread out over the hardwood floor as he made his way to his spinning wheel, the sole survivor of his tantrum. How had he let his little maid worm her way into his heart? He was the dealmaker, the spinner of lies, a scourge on the realm. It was impossible for someone to love him, to embrace the monster.

Yet, she had. She had seen behind the mask to the poor cowardly spinner he'd been once upon a time. His lip curled in disgust. How could she love him? He was cold and cruel, manic and prone to violence … a beast. Yet the kiss wouldn't have worked if she didn't truly love him.

He gave the wheel an idle spin, the comforting creak loud and unsettling in the still room. The entire castle was eerily quiet, something quite disturbing. Since Belle had come to live with him, the castle was never quiet. She was always making some sort of commotion. Pots and pans rattling in the kitchen as she attempted to cook something edible, the sound of a scrub brush over the floor in the foyer, her fingers at the edge of a page, turning it with a whisper of sound as she read before the fire in the evenings, a wistful sigh, a breathy laugh. His head turned towards the massive double doors leading into the Great Hall as if he expected her to waltz in at any moment, tea tray in hand for their afternoon refreshment.

He dropped his head into his hands, misery coiled tightly in his gut. She was his light and he'd snuffed it out, sending her away with nothing. He'd banished her from the only home she'd known for the past six months, away from her warm bed, her library, her security and safety. What if she were set upon by brigands? She was the servant of the Dark One. There were enemies of his out there who wouldn't hesitate to harm her as a message to him.

Gods! What if she couldn't find a warm place to rest her head on her journey home? Would she even be returning to her father and that brute of a fiancée? A smug smile curled his thin lips. No, he'd made sure the lummox wouldn't be awaiting her return. The smile faded as his worries returned. What if she never made it home? What if her father rejected her, thinking she'd broken the deal with the Dark One?

His chest tightened at the thoughts whirling through his mind until he couldn't take it a moment longer. No … No one would harm his little dearie. He wouldn't allow it. She belonged to him. So what if he'd made her leave. He was having a bad day. He nodded confidently as he fetched his cloak and settled it over his shoulders. He'd simply remind her of their deal and escort her home. His face fell. No, he couldn't do that. Their deal had been rendered void when he'd let her go the first time.

Rumpelstiltskin groaned inwardly. What if she didn't want to come home with him, let him show her how sorry he was for rejecting the love she'd offered? No, he wouldn't allow it … _couldn't_ allow it. He loved her. He'd just have to convince her. But first he'd have to find her. He grimaced, realizing that might be easier said than done and made a slow trek up to the tower.

*.*.*

"Show me my Belle," he demanded of the mirror clasped tightly in his clawed hand. It was one of his more useful trinkets, having traded a rare jade unicorn foal to a northern prince for the small looking glass with its curling roses engraved in the pewter casing. The mirror's surface swirled as if smoke were trapped beneath the beveled glass before it rippled and shifted into a clear image.

The Dark One dropped down onto the stool at his work table, his legs giving out beneath him as he beheld his beloved in the glass. She looked so sad. What the hell was she doing drowning her sorrows in a tavern? She was too good to be surrounded by such rabble, he thought irritably.

 _Because you sent her away, idiot!_ He'd had good reason. She was in cahoots with the queen to take away his power. _And now? Does it really matter if she's working with Regina? Could I bring her home, trust her if I am always suspicious of her? But how could it be a trick if we share true love?_ "Argh! The kiss wouldn't have worked if she didn't truly love me," he growled, raking a hand through his unruly hair. "It doesn't matter! She's mine and I _will_ bring her home."

He scowled as she seemed to perk up over the conversation at the next table. He knew the tavern _and_ the dwarves who frequented it, having made more than one deal or two in the establishment. Bossy – the crew master of that rabble – sat down opposite the one known as Dreamy.

 _"What's the matter? You barely touched your food."_

 _Dreamy continued to pick at his meal with no small amount of disinterest. "I don't know. I can't eat, I can't sleep, I don't feel at all like myself. Maybe I should have Doc take a look at me."_

 _The crew chief laughed raucously. "You're going to trust a dwarf who got his medical degree from a pick axe?" he asked. "I wouldn't worry about it. Dwarves don't get sick. It must be in your head."_

Rumpelstiltskin's eyes softened as his little love's curiosity and innate desire to help got the better of her.

 _"It's not in his head – it's in his heart. You're in love."_

 _"Well, that's impossible. Dwarves can't fall in love," Bossy insisted._

 _"Trust me. I know love, and you're in it," she said with a sad smile. Bossy waved a hand dismissively and rose from his seat to join the others, leaving Dreamy there with Belle._

 _Dreamy smiled at her, his eyes alight with curiosity and hope. "What's it like?"_

 _Her entire expression lit with pleasure. "It's the most wonderful and amazing thing in the world," she replied, a wistful expression on her lovely face. "Love is hope. It fuels our dreams. And if you're in it, you need to enjoy it. Because love doesn't always last forever."_

The mage felt his chest tighten as he continued to watch, tracing a blackened nail along the curve of her jaw, the mirror cold beneath his touch. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

 _"But, if love's so great, then why do I feel so bad right now?" Dreamy asked._

 _Belle sighed. "You need to be with the person you love."_

 _"Yeah, but how do I know she feels the same way?" Dreamy asked. "All she talked about was going to see some fireflies – not loving me."_

Rumpelstiltskin rolled his eyes. "Simpleton." Not that he was any better at discerning the feelings of the woman he loved since he hadn't been able to realize she loved him in return.

 _Belle leaned forward, her elbows on the table, her jewel-bright cerulean eyes narrowed. "What … what did she tell you about these fireflies?"_

 _"Uh, that she was going to go see them on the hilltop tonight. That she'd heard they were the most beautiful sight in all the land." He paused as Belle's tinkling chuckle filled the room. "What?"_

The sorcerer felt a pang of longing ripple through him at the sound of her sweet laughter, remembering how it had sounded when she'd laughed at his quips. Belle was the only woman he'd ever known to enjoy his dark humor.

 _"She wasn't telling you about the fireflies. She was inviting you to go be with her."_

 _"You think so?" The dwarf asked hopefully, willing to take a chance on her advice and seek out his love._

 _"I've had my heart broken enough to know when somebody's reaching out. Now go. Find your love, find your hope, find your dreams," she encouraged him._

Rumpelstiltskin flung the mirror across the work table, uncaring if it broke or not. He was filled with such a sense of self-loathing, he couldn't bear to look upon her another moment. He was the reason her heart was broken, the reason she no longer had a home, the reason she was hurting. But sitting there drowning in despair wasn't helping matters, nor was his self-pity. At least now he knew where his girl was. First, he'd have to see if she was open to returning home with him. If she wasn't … well, he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

*.*.*

Rumpelstiltskin emerged from the tree line surrounding the village, scowling down at himself with a look which could only be termed as disgust. Simple clothes - peasant clothes - adorned his wiry frame. Absent were his silks, leathers and brocade, gone were his dragon hide, velvet and lace. He'd sworn when he left that pathetic village behind – and the small-minded people who had tormented him for a decade or more – he would never again don the coarse linen clothes he'd worn for most of his life. However, if he were to get close to Belle without her whacking him upside the head with a dwarven pickaxe, he was going to have to be subtle. If that meant donning a disguise – or a glamour, he thought, regarding the lightly tanned flesh of his hand in the moonlight – then so be it.

There was only one part of his disguise he'd decided to forgo. There was no sense carrying around his walking staff. His magic preserved the ancient injury he'd done to himself, and he didn't want to see pity in Belle's eyes. He kept to the deep shadows and back alleys of the little village, not wanting to be seen until it was necessary, but he found he wasn't quite ready to enter the tavern once he'd located it.

He leaned against the building and sighed. What would she think of him in this form? There was no illusion of wealth and prestige in how he appeared now. There was only a middle-aged spinner in peasant garb … ugly, friendless, no family to speak of. Oh, yes, he had lots to offer a princess. He wasn't worthy to kiss her feet.

Yet, knowing Belle and the pure goodness which emanated from her every pore, she'd take it upon herself to try to save him. He forcibly snapped himself out of his self-deprecating malaise and shoved off the wall. He was the feared wizard of legend, the Dark One, he told himself. He could do this! It wasn't about him, anyway. This was about his beloved and making certain she didn't come to harm. He needed to get her home where she was safe and warm and preferably wrapped about him as they lay together on the sofa in the library … _Ack! Stop thinking like that! Just because she loves me, doesn't mean she wants me in that way._

His appearance was so nondescript, he didn't draw the slightest bit of attention as he entered the tavern. He took a seat in the corner, ordering a pint of ale from the barmaid as she made her way over. The Dark One was incapable of getting drunk, but it would give him something to do with his nervously fidgeting hands while he observed his girl. No one approached her, leaving her to peruse the book she'd drawn from her satchel. He frowned. What else had she been able to pilfer from the Dark Castle on her way out?

He hadn't really given it much thought. He'd remained in the dungeon, lost in a maelstrom of despair after her parting words, until the last rays of the afternoon sun had disappeared and left him in darkness. Had she taken the time to collect her meager belongings? He delved into the bowl of peanuts on the table and cracked a few in his hands. He wasn't really interested in the meager offering, but it helped to ground him, stopping him from rushing to her side and throwing himself at her feet.

Rumpelstiltskin startled a bit as the barmaid returned with his ale and plunked it onto the table before him. He glared up at her as she rested a hand on her hip and arched a brow, silently demanding payment. He was going to have to remember that for all outward appearances, he wasn't the Dark One. In this form, disdain and disgust were commonplace. He tossed her a gold coin and her brows disappeared into her hairline, surprised as well as suspicious as to where someone of his low means would come by a gold coin. "Just keep them coming, dearie, and don't ask questions."

He impatiently waved her away and she moved off with a disgruntled _humph_. A grimace sharpened the lines in his face as he took a sip of the watered-down brew, but his eyes returned to his girl, his hands itching to smooth the stray curl away from her brow. _Ugh! Next, I'll be waxing poetic! What the hell is wrong with me?_

He pulled the hood of his cloak lower over his brow, his dark eyes seeking out every nuance of her expression as she continued to lose herself in her book. His brow creased in concern. Didn't she know it was dangerous to become absorbed in reading when she was in the middle of a den of iniquity? What if some ruffian decided to steal from her or knock her over the head and make off with her. He really was going to have to have a talk with her about awareness as it pertained to her safety.

His eyes narrowed as the barmaid made her way over to Belle's table and switched out a new pint with the empty. A cordial smile wreathed her face as she looked up from her book and she said something he couldn't quite make out, but quickly reached into her bag and retrieved a gold coin much like the one he'd given the woman moments ago. _So! She absconded with more than just a book from her beloved library. She's been dipping into my gold stores as well._ He didn't know if he should feel relieved she'd taken some of his gold in order to survive or be offended she'd pilfered from him. He sighed, deciding on the former. He couldn't begrudge her a means to take care of herself.

He picked up his second pint as the barmaid ambled off again and found the courage to remove himself from the table, slowly making his way over to Belle. The least she could do was tell him to bugger off. It wasn't as if she knew who he was in this form.

Belle looked up, one brow raised querulously as he took a seat opposite her. "Oh, hello," she said cautiously, wary but not wanting to seem rude.

Rumpelstiltskin could feel his face heat under her piercing gaze. "Hello, dea- miss," he replied, cursing inwardly at his near slip. "What's a pretty girl like you doing drinking alone?"

"I was thirsty," Belle admitted, not wanting to divulge too much to a complete stranger. She tilted her head to the side, trying to see into the dark shadows obscuring his face. There was something so familiar about the deep lilt of his voice and it caused a familiar pang of longing to settle in her belly.

The mage's tongue darted out to wet his dry lips, hoping he could have a conversation with her without allowing his nervousness to appear evident in his voice. "Shouldn't you be at home with your family? I once knew a woman who valued her time at the tavern instead of seeing to her husband and son. You don't look the type."

Belle took a long drink of her ale and then propped her chin in her hand, smiling gently at him. "I don't have a family … not anymore," she said sadly. Her gaze dropped to the table, her eyes caressing his ungloved hands as they toyed with a few discarded peanut shells. The breath hitched in her chest as his right hand brushed the shells aside and his first two fingers rubbed softly against his thumb. She knew those long-fingered elegant hands … spinner's hands. She'd spent long hours watching his hands work the wheel, long hours daydreaming over how those hands would feel against her heated flesh. How could he think she wouldn't see?

"What happened to them? I can't see anyone willingly letting someone as lovely as yourself go."

She searched the shadows of his face again, needing to know if she were right. Surely … no, she couldn't believe he'd come for her, not after he'd been so fierce in his determination to make her leave. Yet, the evidence of his true identity stared her in the face. Her lip quivered slightly as she answered. "The man I loved … he didn't believe I loved him. He thought I'd betrayed him and sent me away."

"He was a fool," he said with a nod. "You should go home and convince him."

She could feel the anger rise in her, sending a fiery flush spreading across her chest to creep up her neck. "And why would I do that when he made it clear he didn't believe me? He was cruel! He took my love and smashed it into dust beneath his boot," she scoffed.

He was digging himself a deeper hole and could see no way out of the mess he'd created for himself. He decided on the truth for once. "Perhaps he's had time to rethink the situation and wants you to come home."

Her hand darted out, her fingers wrapping firmly about his wrist as she reached up and shoved the hood of his cloak back. "Is that why you're here, Rumpelstiltskin?" she hissed angrily, her eyes flashing cerulean fire as her gaze met his. "You've come to bring me home?"

"Well … I-I-I-"

"Oh, stow it!" Her eyes narrowed on him again as she took in his olive complexion and warm sable eyes. "How are you like this?" she asked, lowering her voice in deference to the many ears in the tavern. "Your curse …"

"Is still intact. I didn't think you'd talk to me if I showed you my true form," he admitted ruefully.

Belle sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose with her free hand, the other still tightly clasping his wrist. He made no move to free himself from her grip, however. Finally, she looked up at him. "Well, you were right. I have no desire to speak with you in _any_ form." She let go of him and snapped her book closed, returning it to her bag as she prepared to take her leave. "You made it more than clear to me, Rumpel, that your power means more to you than I do," she sneered.

"Belle, please … can't we go home? We can talk about it there," he pleaded quietly, trying not to draw the attention of the other occupants of the tavern.

She gaped at him. "I don't have a home any longer, thanks to you!" she hissed, bounding to her feet. He followed her to the stairs leading to the rooms above the tavern. "Where do you think you're going, Rumpelstiltskin?"

"With you, of course."

"You are _not_ coming to my room," she protested, stalking up the rickety staircase. Yet he was close at her heels as she strode down the corridor to her rented room. She turned to him as she reached her door and inserted the key into the lock. "Go away!"

The Dark One arched a brow at her. "Technically, it's _my_ room since you've used _my_ gold to purchase it."

Belle gave him a withering look and entered the room, slamming the door in his face. She gave a startled shriek as she turned and plowed into him. At least now he had resumed his more familiar form, his green-gold skin gleaming in the lamplight, the rich softness of silk beneath her hands as she braced them on his chest to regain her balance. "Rumpelstiltskin!" she screeched.

"I wasn't done," he admitted sheepishly, his fingers tented and tapping nervously before him. "We need to talk, dearie."

"And I have nothing to say to you right now. I'm tired and I need to sleep if I'm going to be traveling tomorrow," she said, pushing past him. She dropped her satchel on the chair in the corner before disappearing behind the privacy screen to change into her nightclothes.

Rumpelstiltskin wrinkled his nose in distaste as he surveyed the room. There was a table next to the privacy screen with a bowl and pitcher for washing, a ratty chair in the corner – no doubt riddled with all sorts of vermin – a twin bed with a threadbare quilt and a nightstand which held a solitary oil lamp. Pathetic, he thought. "Wouldn't you be more comfortable at home in your own room?" Wrong thing to say! He ducked as her shoe flew over the top of the screen, the projectile barely missing his head.

His jaw dropped, and he could feel his mouth begin to water as she emerged from behind the screen and stalked angrily towards the bed draped in nothing but one of his silk shirts, her slender legs on display. "Get out!" she snarled, whipping back the quilt and lying down. "I'm not having this conversation with you right now … if ever."

"That's my shirt! You stole my shirt too?" he asked, aghast. He wouldn't acknowledge the rush of pleasure – seeing her in his clothes – careening through his lower extremities. That she'd chosen to take something which belonged to him rather than her own silk nightdress spoke volumes.

She glared at him and proceeded to lower the wick on the lamp until it went out, casting the room in darkness. The moonlight filtering in through the curtains did little to offer even a dim illumination. "It's just a shirt, Rumpel," she said softly, weary of his accusations. He didn't need to know that if she couldn't have him, the very least she'd have was a reminder. It helped to have his scent, the familiar silk which had swathed his body surrounding her as she slept. It offered her the comfort he'd denied her.

"If you insist on staying, you can have the chair in the corner or if that's not to your liking … the floor."

"Belle … let's just go home," he insisted, casting a glare at the chair in the corner. He didn't want to sleep in a chair. He wanted to take his girl home – to _their_ home - because frankly he couldn't see himself able to reside in the immense fortress without her at his side – and work through their problems. "Have you even eaten today, or have you been too busy drowning your sorrows in ale?"

She didn't answer, turning over on her side and giving him a good view of her quilt-covered back.

"Dearie?"

Still no answer. He glowered at the chair as he moved over to the ratty thing. With a flourish of his hand, he repaired the holes, cleaned the upholstery and added a bit more padding. He didn't want to have to worry about whatever vermin had taken up residence in the woebegone piece of furniture. He moved it closer to the bed, putting it between her and the door. Any thieves thinking they'd take advantage and rob her during the night were in for a surprise should they attempt it. With a frustrated sigh, he settled into the chair and propped his chin in his hand. He'd brought her anger upon himself … now he'd just have to wait her out.

*.*.*

The sound permeating the gloom of the room didn't register with him at first. Rumpelstiltskin's preternatural eyes searched out the shadows for a clue, thinking it might be a mouse – gods forbid it should be a rat – or some other nocturnal creature which might be lurking. He shuddered, thinking of some furry little varmint crawling over Belle as she slept. His ears were still ringing from the last time she'd encountered a mouse in the kitchen at the Dark Castle. Though he hadn't been able to suppress the surge of lust which still wracked his wiry frame as she'd thrown herself into his arms, seeking refuge from the rodent.

He sat up, perching on the edge of the chair as it sounded again. His heart contracted when he realized what it was. A small sniff, coming from his precious girl where she huddled beneath the quilt, her small shoulders shaking as she tried not to make a sound. His leathers creaked softly as he rose to his feet, his fingers tenting before him in indecision. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to comfort her, but the fear of her rejection held him back. A choked sob escaped her tightly compressed lips and he felt his fears melt away. He couldn't allow her to suffer, not when he was the cause of her despair. Only he would be able to repair the damage he'd caused by sending her away and breaking her heart. She'd been so brave to confront the beast with her feelings. He could do no less, despite what it might cost him.

Belle stiffened as he shifted his weight onto the bed, curling in on herself even more, her arms wrapping around her knees as she drew her legs up closer to her chest. She jerked reflexively away as he spooned against her back in the tiny bed. "L-Leave me alone, R-Rumpelstiltskin," she breathed out with a stuttering breath.

He slipped his right arm beneath her head to wrap tightly around her torso, his other curling about her waist, pulling her back to rest flush against his body, offering his warmth, his protection, his … love. "Please, Belle …" He cringed, knowing she could clearly hear the plea in his voice as it caressed the shell of her ear. "Don't cry."

"I-I can't help i-it," she sobbed. She mentally kicked herself for admitting that to him. She was just so tired of the tears, tired of trying to be strong and brave, tired of missing him. She'd only been gone for three days and it felt more like three years. It was his fault he couldn't trust her – even though she'd never given him a reason not to – and it was her fault for listening to some stranger on the road. How was she supposed to have known it was one of his enemies trying to hurt him?

She'd been so excited to test the theory. All she'd wanted was to help him, to free him from his curse. How was she to know it meant so much to him, that he didn't want to relinquish the power? One thing it had accomplished aside from provoking his violent temper, though … it had proven without a shadow of a doubt she loved him, deeply and truly, and whether he wanted to admit it or not, he loved her, too. Why couldn't he have just realized it a bit sooner before he'd sent her away?

Belle shivered as he pressed his face against the soft curve of her neck. It felt so good to finally be held in his arms, to have his body snug and tight against hers. This is how she'd imagined they'd spend that first night together after their kiss. Gods, how wrong she'd been. Instead she'd spent two days in the dungeon before he'd come to evict her from his castle, his life. He'd proven he didn't want her, so why was he here now?

Her wails of despair only seemed to grow instead of lessen. If she gave in and went home with him, what was to stop his next tantrum? What would stop him from tossing her out again next time he became displeased with her? Bitterness crept into her tone as she finally spoke. "Why do you want me to come home, Rumpel? The castle getting a bit too dusty? I'm sure you could find another maid in one of your deals," she spat.

She felt him stiffen in surprise. "What?! No! I want you to come home because I-I-" he stammered.

"You can't even say it, can you?" she sniffed, her body still trembling with the emotion boiling within her. "And don't even think about bringing up our deal. You know damn good and well, it's null and void. You sent me away … twice!" she hissed. "I didn't betray you. I didn't know that woman on the road, Rumpel. I didn't _know_ she was your e-enemy," she sobbed, unable to keep them at bay.

He smoothed a hand over her unruly curls and make a shushing sound against her ear as he tried to comfort her. "I know, my Belle … I'm sorry. It was just easier to think you were working with Regina than it was to believe you loved me. I'm a monster, Belle. Who could ever love me?"

"I do," she whispered, the sound barely audible in the still room.

"Belle …" he murmured, pressing a soft kiss just below her ear, his eyes slamming closed at the sheer pleasure of her skin beneath his lips. "Please let me take you home. I don't care if you change your mind later and leave me just like everyone else … please just … come home with me."

Belle turned over, struggling against his clinging arms, so she could see him. She bit her lip as she took in his features, illuminated by the moonlight filtering in through the curtains. "I can't. How could we possibly be happy if we can't trust one another? I would always be wondering when you would send me away again and you would always be waiting for me to try to break your curse," she said sadly as she trailed her fingertips over his cheek, tears welling once more in her eyes. He pulled back as she inched closer to place a light kiss to his jaw. "You can't find it in you to trust me, Rum."

"Belle –"

She rested her fingertips against his lips, cutting him off. "Please, Rumpelstiltskin, please just go." More tears spilled over her lashes. "It hurts too much to be here with you like this and not be able to have all of you."

Rumpelstiltskin clasped her hands in his, ever mindful of his claws as he brought them to his lips and kissed each of her fingertips. "I'll find a way. There are reasons why I can't give up my power, Belle, all of which I will share with you in time. Now I just have to find a way to have both your love and my power." He let go of her hands to cradle her tear-streaked face in his warm palms, his thumbs stroking gently over her fine cheekbones as he pressed a swift kiss to her lower lip. His eyes slammed shut as he fought off a wave of dizziness, but he refused to let her go. "Will you give me time, Belle?" he asked hopefully. "Will you wait for me?"

"Rumpel –" she began to protest.

He pressed his brow to hers, his nose nuzzling gently against her own. "I-I love you, Belle."

She gasped as a single tear escaped the corner of his eye and she felt her resolve crumble to dust. "Yes. I'll wait for you, Rumpel, but you have to be sure I'm what you truly want before you return to me. I won't settle for only a part of you. If I'm going to give myself to you completely … heart, body and soul … I'll expect the same from you."

He nodded fervently, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of her mouth before rising from the bed. "I promise, Belle. Wait for me here and I will come for you." He turned to the door and frowned at the meager lock. With a flourish of his elegant hand, he changed the lock and added two more, dropping a set of keys on her night table along with a sack of gold coins. She arched a brow at him. "I want to make certain you won't be set upon by ruffians in my absence." He gestured to the gold. "And I don't want you to do without either."

"Rumpel, I'll be fine," she assured him.

"It should take me no longer than a month. The gold should last you much longer than that." He leaned over her and pressed a kiss to her brow. "Please be safe, dearie."

For the first time since she'd left the Dark Castle, she felt hope bloom in her chest and warm her heart. "I will."

*.*.*

Rumpelstiltskin found it wasn't as easy as he'd thought to be away from her now that he'd professed his love for her. He joined her every day at the tavern to share their evening meal. He wore his glamour, though, to keep the other diners from casting suspicion on Belle. She shouldn't have to suffer for her association with the Dark One. The less they knew, the safer she would be. He wondered idly, if she suspected he was slowly courting her. He brought her books from her library - returning them when she'd finished – chocolates from the sweet shop in the village at the base of the mountain, roses from the castle gardens to brighten her room. He'd brought the thick rug from her room to cover the floor, her own soft down pillows and duvet from her bed and a brazier to offer her warmth. He didn't want her to lack in comfort just because she had to be away from their home.

And when he couldn't be with her, when his work kept him from her, he checked in on her through the mirror in his tower. "Not much longer, my darling Belle. It's almost finished and then you can come home to me," he murmured wistfully to the empty room as he turned his face away from the open window with its warm spring breeze, and back to the ring sitting innocuously on the worktable.

It had taken no time at all to talk Maleficent out of the rare moonstone she'd had lying around the Forbidden Fortress. She wasn't using it for anything and she was more than pleased to trade it for the pure ebony unicorn foal he'd offered. And what the hell was going on, he wondered. It seemed everyone wanted unicorns as a pet. What did they have against a good sheepdog? Later, however, he'd wonder about the melancholy she'd fallen into. Something was wrong, and he felt the uncharacteristic need to help her. Ack! His love for Belle was apparently making him soft.

He'd set the moonstone in a simple setting, using his own spun gold and more than a little dark magic to suit his purposes. He now simply had to wait for the potion, bubbling away in his cauldron, to finish brewing. A quick dip into the viscous red brew would seal the spell and prevent Belle's kiss from being able to rid him of his curse. A smile spread over his face – one which had surely never been seen on any other Dark One before him – as he thought about another ring he was working on.

Rumpelstiltskin checked the ornate clock on the mantle over the hearth, noting the time was approaching to join his girl for dinner. He pulled the mirror closer to him and commanded it to show her image. She should be resting beneath her favorite tree in the forest behind the tavern at this time of day, immersed in her most recent novel. The last one he'd brought her had curved her lips with a smile of delight, the tale one of mermaids and a sea captain in need of aid to secure the hand of his true love. It was whimsical, but if it made his Belle smile and coo soft words of thanks in his ear, he could bank his disgust for such drivel.

A dark frown wrinkled his brow as thick purple mist swirled behind the mirror's surface. What was taking so long? "Show me my Belle," he growled, shaking the little hand mirror in frustration. Fear clenched his gut and nearly sent him toppling off the stool. Something was horribly wrong. It didn't matter where she was; the mirror should reveal her whereabouts. She would have told him if she were going to move on, had given her word she wouldn't, but she could have changed her mind. No, she wouldn't do that. She was just as excited as he was to be reunited. Their future was too bright to have her run from him now. If she hadn't run when he'd told her of Bae and the curse he needed Regina to cast for him, she wouldn't run now!

He grimaced. She'd been upset over the curse, pleading with him to find another way, but eventually she'd accepted it. _So, where the hell is she!?_ Panic clawed at his chest as he transported himself to the tavern, not even bothering with his glamor, but appearing as the Dark One in the middle of the crowded common room to a chorus of shrieks from its occupants.

His clawed hand reached out for the nearest body, his fingers fisting tightly into the homespun tunic of the proprietor. "Where is the lady Belle?" he snarled, his amber eyes nearly black as he was consumed with worry and rage.

"I-I-I-I d-don't know, D-Dark One," the man stammered as he quaked with fear. "S-She was here just a w-while ago for her a-afternoon pot of t-tea … I swear!"

Rumpelstiltskin's gaze pierced the men and women cowering at their tables, searching for any signs of treachery. "Find her! Now! I want this entire establishment … the town … the woods … anyplace you think she might have gone … searched. Don't come back here and tell me you can't find her!"

*.*.*

The Dark One stood at his spinning wheel, the product of his hard work a tangled mess in his hand. Not that it mattered when he couldn't focus on what he was supposed to be doing. His jaw clenched tightly, his ruined teeth gnashing together as he fought to keep his sorrow from consuming him. He'd been searching for his Belle for three weeks. Three long miserable weeks with no sign of her, no matter how many people he threatened, or how many lands he visited.

There had been no one who could tell him of his sweet princess with her gleaming chestnut curls and beautiful cerulean eyes. It was as if she'd simply vanished from the realm. He'd been forced to enlist Jefferson's aid to search the realms he wasn't able to access himself. He'd even gone so far as to snatch a small portrait from King Maurice's night table for Jefferson to use, not trusting him to describe her well enough for the masses to identify her.

Where could she be? He wouldn't allow himself to believe she'd left on her own, or worse … sought a magical solution to hide from him. She wouldn't do that, he thought miserably. She'd professed to love him … He pressed a hand to his heart, feeling it break just a little more as another day slipped away without him having located her. He couldn't let himself give in to the one thought which constantly plagued him. He would know if she had died. She couldn't be dead, the world deprived of her light, her radiant smile, her goodness.

He just knew he had to find her. He couldn't eat, couldn't sleep – not that he'd ever done either on a regular basis before Belle had come to the Dark Castle – he couldn't even find an interest in his deals. He'd nearly found himself giving Charming free advice on his last visit. Gods! The horror. The royal would think he could run amok and consider the Dark One as his ally if he weren't careful. With a heavy sigh, he realized it didn't matter. Nothing mattered without his Belle.

Rumpelstiltskin tensed so tightly he was surprised his spine didn't snap as he felt the familiar echo of dark magic pierce his wards. It coiled and writhed like poisonous snakes, leaving him feeling as if he'd never be clean again. The ornate doors of the Great Hall opened to admit the last person in the entire realm he wished to see today. He would much rather be left to his despair.

"Flimsy locks," came the lilting chime of the queen's voice. "I have a deal to discuss. A certain…mermaid."

The fine hairs at his nape rose as a shiver of dread coursed up and down his spine. "I'm not dealing today," he warned, in no mood to banter with her when it felt as if his soul were splintering apart.

Her ruby lips twisted into a calculating smile as she traversed the length of the room, stopping at the end of the immense oak dining table where a tea service awaited. "Are you angry with me? What is it this time?" she asked impatiently.

He knew why she had come. She'd come to see if her advice to his little maid had borne fruit. He was happy to disappoint her. "Your little deception failed," he sneered, still refusing to turn and acknowledge her. "You'll never be more powerful than me. You can keep trying, dearie, but you're never going to beat me."

Her tone slipped into a childish sing-song as she grinned evilly at his back. "Is this about that girl I met on the road? Hm?" she chuckled. "What was her name? Margie? …Verna?"

"Belle," he murmured, the name reverent and holy upon his tongue. He could almost feel her light as it passed his lips. Names were powerful and hers was the most precious name of all aside from his son's.

"Right," she sneered, bemused she hadn't gotten a rise out of him. "Well, you can rest assured I had nothing to do with that tragedy," she said, turning to the tea tray to prepare a cup for herself. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, barely able to restrain her malicious glee as the wheel stopped and he finally turned to her, his steps measured as he approached.

"What tragedy?" he asked, his tone clipped.

"You don't know?" she inquired in mock surprise as she set her spoon down on the silver tray and turned fully to face him. "No, I suppose you wouldn't. You don't seem the type to keep up with gossip cooped up here in this moldy old relic all the time."

"Regina," he growled in warning.

Her lips split in a feral grin as she sipped at her tea. "I wasn't at all surprised when she called upon me … begging for help to free her from your attentions. It was quite a small matter to shield her from your magic, so you couldn't find her."

He couldn't keep the pain out of his voice, his old suspicions rising to the surface again and adding another vicious crack in his already damaged heart. "You lie," he insisted, holding onto his last fragile thread of hope.

Regina's expression turned sympathetic. "Oh, Rumpel," she tsked. "Don't tell me you believed she could really love you." She chuckled again. "But wait! It gets better. After she got home, her fiancé had gone missing. And after her stay here – her association with you – no one would want her, of course. Her father shunned her; cut her off, shut her out. He was cruel to her. He locked her in a tower and sent in clerics to cleanse her soul with scourges and flaying. After a while, she threw herself off the tower." She paused dramatically. "She died."

"You're lying," he hissed. She couldn't be dead; he'd know … he'd feel it if she were. It had to be another of the queen's ploys.

"Am I?" she asked, meeting his unwavering gaze with one of her own. "Really … if I had known what she'd have to face from her family … I would have offered her a place in my court."

Rumpelstiltskin narrowed his eyes on his former apprentice. He glared fiercely at her, the hope making his heart pound, well hidden behind his mask of the Dark One. "We're done," he said dejectedly, letting her believe she'd accomplished her mission of furthering his misery.

"Fine – I have other calls to make," she sighed, following the mage to the door where he waited to see her out. She ran her fingertips along the surface of the table for effect, wanting to get in one last dig at him. "The place is looking dusty, Rumpel. You should get a new girl."

He stood frozen next to the door, indecision stealing his breath as he wondered how much of what Regina had said was true. If Belle had called upon her to hide her away from him, if she'd felt confident enough to do so, then he could be assured his little maid had been the queen's pawn all along. Then he remembered her tears, the heartache over her banishment, her profession of love … not to mention true love's kiss. No, he couldn't believe that.

Life returned to his limbs as he moved away from the door, a swirl of magic ridding him of his 'armor' and replacing it with something softer. For once he didn't feel the need to frighten someone.

He moved over to the full-length mirror and whipped off the drape to look approvingly at his appearance. Black leather pants and boots covered his toned legs, a soft emerald shirt of the softest silk adorned with Belle's own embroidery in gold thread at his cuffs and a black brocade waistcoat swathed his torso. His ebony cloak made of the finest velvet finished his look. It wasn't much better, but at least he was free of the dragon hide and spikes. Belle would surely approve. It was perfect for a visit to Avonlea.

*.*.*

Rumpelstiltskin perched high on the ledge overlooking the balcony upon which the king sat, his left arm wrapped securely over the neck of a stone gargoyle as he observed the men below. Maurice looked distracted, listening with only half an ear to his advisors. The man's melancholy could easily be guilt over damning his daughter to the clerics, or he could simply be missing Belle. The mage couldn't be sure until he asked. He just hoped the man would be honest with him. Thankfully, his advisors scurried off as servants carried out the king's dinner. He was sure to sour Maurice's appetite, he thought with a wry smirk.

The Dark One appeared in the chair to the right of Belle's father as the last of the servants disappeared back into the palace and shut the french doors behind them, leaving the king to his solitary meal. He gave a little shriek, his goblet of wine clattering to the table as he jumped in surprise.

"What are you doing here?" he sputtered, his visage purpling in outrage.

"No need to be alarmed, majesty. I just popped in for a chat," Rumpelstiltskin said, spreading his hands in an innocent gesture.

The king looked around, his eyes searching the shadows. "Where's Belle? Did she come with you?" he asked hopefully.

With that one question, the mage had his answer. Belle had never returned home, had never been tortured by the clerics for being brave enough to love the monster, and most importantly, she'd never thrown herself from the tower. Which left … Regina.

"No, I'm afraid not, sire," he said gently, feeling sorry for the man when Maurice's face fell in disappointment. "I … ah … I simply wanted to extend an invitation to the Dark Castle should you feel so inclined to visit. I believe Belle would enjoy seeing you."

The king gaped at the imp who'd stolen away his daughter and held her captive. "You would allow me to see her? Do you grant such liberties to all your prisoners?"

Rumpelstiltskin giggled, the sound causing Maurice to cringe. "Of course not," he twittered, "and I'd not grant it for her … if she was a prisoner. But I'll let Belle discuss that matter with you should you accept my invitation. Good day to you, majesty."

He was gone just as quickly as he'd arrived, leaving the man gaping. He had more pressing issues at the moment, he thought as he fidgeted with the moonstone ring on his right hand. There was his true love to liberate and a witch to skin.

*.*.*

The Winter Palace rose up eerily in the darkness, a monolith which housed the vilest woman the realm had seen for eons … and that was saying something considering Cora had once resided in said realm. Rumpelstiltskin had created the perfect monster to cast his curse. What he'd not expected was for his creation to turn on him.

His arms stretched out at his sides, palms up as he stood outside the black wrought iron gates, magic curling outward to ghost over the queen's wards. His lips curled back over his teeth in a feral smile. Regina must have used every spell in her meager arsenal to construct the barrier over her home. His magic tore through them like tissue paper. He might have taught her everything she knew, but not everything _he_ knew.

The gates flew open, left to hang awkwardly on their broken hinges as he stepped out of the shadows, his ebony cloak flapping about him in the slight breeze, the hood pulled low over his brow. His boots tapped a rhythmic tattoo against the cobblestones as he entered the bailey, not even making an attempt to muffle his approach. Guards rushed forward, the sounds of swords being drawn filling the night air, yet still he advanced.

They fell in his wake, his magic providing a layer of protection. He didn't have to lift a finger, nor did he have to use more than a thought to dispatch them. He didn't kill them; certain Belle would disapprove of needless slaughter. They would surely receive a suitable punishment from the queen herself once he departed and they woke to her wrath.

His heart skipped a beat as he stepped into the foyer. Now that he'd breached Regina's wards, he could feel Belle just as clearly as if she stood at his side, using her light to guide him to her. He could feel her fear, her anguish, her despair. It washed over him, calling forth the darkness which clung to his soul, demanding payment for her suffering. He had no wish to deny it.

*.*.*

Regina's darkly perverse laughter rang through the tower as she taunted the girl who had so infatuated the Dark One. "You should have seen him, dear," she gloated. "He was completely crushed!"

Belle's lower lip quivered as she stared at the queen, aghast at her cruelty. "How could you do such a thing as to tell him I'd died? Wasn't it enough to try to trick me into betraying him?" she cried, tears pooling in her eyes.

"It was quite easy, I assure you, little Belle. He needs to realize he's not the only power in this realm. The Dark One would be a powerful ally if he could be controlled, yet I can't seem to convince you to tell me where his dagger is." She inched forward, just out of Belle's reach, the manacles keeping the petite brunette chained to the stone wall. "All this could end if you'd just cooperate, dear. If you tell me where he hides his dagger, you could be reunited with him."

"I told you, I don't know where it is and even if I did, you'd be the last person I would give it to. I will not be a willing part of your schemes to hurt him. He's suffered enough!" Belle spat, her eyes shooting shards of ice at the queen. She crossed her arms over her chest, teetering on the edge of her cot. "You should be more worried about what he will do to you when he discovers your deception."

Regina waved a dismissive hand. "There's no reason he should learn my secrets. I've covered my tracks well enough."

Belle's eyes widened as the mage appeared behind the queen, his claws wrapping around her throat from behind. "Are you so sure about that, dearie?" he snarled, his eyes nearly black as he squeezed. He refrained from looking over at Belle, afraid he'd destroy Regina completely if he did.

The color drained from the queen's face, the breath catching in her chest as the imp squeezed her throat in his punishing grip. She scratched and clawed at his hand, her eyes, swinging to meet his gaze as he stepped into her line of sight. "R-Rum …" she managed to choke out. "I … ex- explain!"

"Oh, I think I understood perfectly. You wish to control me, do you?" he snarled, his hand tightening about her throat. "Perhaps a week in my dungeon will change your mind. Or maybe a week as my personal slave may have you thinking clearly." His thin lips split into a feral grin as a manic gleam entered his eyes. "Oh, yes, that idea has merit, don't you think?" he giggled.

With a thought and a flourish of his elegant hand, a thin golden collar appeared at her throat. It closed with a resounding _snick_ as he released her. She sneered at him as she raised a hand, calling fire to her palm. Confusion knit her brow as she stared down to where a fireball should be smoldering in her hand only to find clear unblemished skin. "Wha-?"

His giggles resounded against the stone walls as he danced around her. "You didn't think I'd allow you to retain your magic, now did you? Oh, no, dearie. You're going to learn your lesson the hard way and perhaps … yes, perhaps you'll see you'll never be more powerful than me." Her finery was replaced by a coarse homespun gown, the wool itchy against her porcelain skin. He gripped her chin harshly in his hand, his eyes boring into hers. "And you will most assuredly learn to _never_ try to harm my Belle again."

He sent her off in a burst of magic before he allowed himself to turn and look at Belle. "Oh, sweetheart …" he breathed out in horror as he took her in. She was thinner than she'd been when last he'd seen her so many weeks ago, manacles encircled her wrists and ankles, the skin rubbed raw in places and the rattiest shift he'd ever seen adorned her lovely form. The manacles fell away from her as he crossed the room and gathered her into his embrace, her little sob of relief muffled against his chest.

"Rumpel …" she cried, relief making her weak. "You came for me. I called for you over and over and … I was so afraid you'd believe I'd abandoned you."

His fingers delved into her hair, the locks lackluster after so long without a good wash. None of that mattered. He'd care for her diligently once they were home. He removed his cloak and wrapped it securely around her shoulders as she shivered from the chill permeating the tower. "Belle, may I please take you home now?" he asked, so enraged she'd been mistreated he could think of little else. It was the one thought which had kept him grounded.

"Yes! I don't think it's a good idea to be away from you any longer, despite our differences." She pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat and raised her watery gaze to meet his. "Take me home, Rumpelstiltskin."

She'd barely finished speaking his name before she was standing in the middle of her bedchamber at the Dark Castle, her possessions at the tavern already returned to their places in her room. She couldn't ever remember being so happy to see the familiar surroundings of the Dark Castle. Even the hearth was crackling merrily with a fire to ward off the chill which seemed never to fade from the stone edifice.

Rumpelstiltskin set her back from him, holding her at arm's length as he fingered the sleeve of her shift-like dress. He was trying valiantly to keep his rage at bay, but the temptation to go down to the dungeon and flay the skin from Regina's bones was great. Finally, he stepped away from Belle and entered the bathing chamber adjoined to her room, filling the tub for her and adding scented oils to the water. Right now, his petty revenge could wait. Belle's needs came first. She needed to bathe so he could heal her wounds and he was certain she hadn't been fed properly while the queen's 'guest'.

She waited patiently for his return, casting her curious gaze upon him when he stepped back into the room. "Come, dearest. I've drawn you a bath."

Belle smiled brightly as much from the endearment as from the thought of being able to submerge herself in clean hot water. "That sounds lovely," she said with a contented sigh. She reached out and wrapped her fingers about his wrist as he turned to go. "Where are you going?"

He brushed a lank curl away from her dirt-smudged cheek. "I'm going to fix you a bite to eat. I'll be here when you come out of the tub, Belle. I won't be far."

She raised up on her bare toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, her fingers entwined in the silk of his shirt. She didn't want to be parted from him for a second, but she didn't want to let him see just how much she'd been affected from her imprisonment. "Don't be long?"

"I promise."

*.*.*

Belle didn't bother with the silk nightdress folded neatly on a shelf, reaching instead for the fine velvet royal blue robe hanging on a hook on the back of the door, reveling in the softness as it caressed her skin. She dried her hair as best she could with her towel and ran the brush through it with swift impatient strokes. She sighed happily at the familiarity. She was _home_. And she felt so much better now that she was clean, but she didn't want to waste time at her toilette when the man she loved was waiting for her on the other side of that door.

Rumpelstiltskin paced nervously before the hearth, his fingers unable to remain still as they fidgeted at his sides. He stopped upon hearing the slight creak of hinges, his wide-eyed gaze coming to rest on her, his mouth falling slack at her state of undress. "Belle …"

She padded her way silently across the thick plush carpet and didn't hesitate to move into his arms, her own sliding about his waist as she pressed her face against his warm chest, breathing in his musky scent with just a hint of sandalwood. It was a scent which had followed her into her dreams on more than one occasion. "I'm sorry I missed dinner with you."

"What?" he asked, his brows drawn low over his eyes as he crushed her to his chest. It felt so incredibly wonderful to have her in his arms.

"Mr. Tisdale was making a lovely lamb stew that night and I know how you love it, and –"

Rumpelstiltskin chuckled and tilted her chin up to kiss the tip of her nose. "Oh, my Belle, it doesn't matter," he said, trailing his fingers through her unbound hair, reveling in its softness. "You're home … safe and sound with me. That's all I care about." He pulled her down with him as he sat on the rug before the fire, settling her onto his lap before he turned to the small feast laid out on the coffee table.

Her stomach gave an audible growl as the aroma of buttered peas, roasted potatoes, hot yeasty rolls, and braised lamb shank wafted up to tease her nose. "Gods, that smells so good!" she moaned, reaching for her fork as Rumpelstiltskin spread a linen napkin over her lap. He poured a measure of mead into a goblet for her, ignoring the tea tray he'd brought up for the time being.

"Eat, my darling Belle," he crooned when she flushed with embarrassment over her voracious appetite.

"Aren't you going to join me?" she asked, nodding to the generous portion spread out before her.

He shook his head, content to simply hold her. The joy he felt at having her home was nearly overwhelming. "No, dearest. This is for you. I know the accommodations at Regina's palace couldn't have been the best."

Belle forced herself to slow down, eating at a more sedate pace as she savored every morsel, chasing it down with her mead. He cleared it away with a flourish of his hand, banishing it to the kitchen. Regina could wash them in the morning when he let her out and set her about her duties. She felt a surge of satisfaction that the queen would be reduced to manual labor for the coming week. Considering Regina had stolen his true love and planned to hold her captive indefinitely, she was getting off lightly.

He arranged several pastries on a dessert plate and set it before her along with a cup of tea. "Would you mind telling me what happened, dearest? How the queen managed to capture you?"

Belle toyed with a peach tart before bringing it up to his lips, knowing they were his favorites. She smiled beatifically as his eyes closed in pleasure as the sweet peach puree and cinnamon burst over his palate "I was in the forest, reading, when I realized it was growing late. I'd promised Gwendolyn I'd help her bake bread for the evening rush, so I hurried back to the tavern. The queen was there when I returned. She was looking for Snow White. I tried to escape her notice, but she saw me as I moved to duck into the kitchen. She said her trip hadn't been for naught after all. I ran, but her guards chased after me. I was thrown into the back of a wagon and taken to the tower."

"I'm so sorry, Belle. I shouldn't have left you alone," he grumbled, setting his cup on the table.

"It's not your fault, Rumpel. She just wanted to hurt you." She drained the last of her tea and set the cup next to his on the table, her eyes flickering to the dancing flames in the hearth as his arms tightened about her middle, pulling her closer, rubbing his cheek against hers as he held her tightly. She sighed softly, relishing the feel of his skin pressed to hers. "Why would she think I would know where your dagger is?"

His fingers twined with hers as his lips brushed feather-lightly over the shell of her ear. "I've never let anyone get close to me, Belle. Not until you."

"I know only what you've wished to share with me, but I _never_ want to know where you hide that wretched dagger. No one should ever be able to force me to tell them about it. I couldn't live with myself if I somehow betrayed you, Rumpel," she said, brushing a tear away from her cheek as it flowed unbidden.

His eyes caught and held the sight of the abrasions on her wrists and a growl rumbled low in his chest. He rose with her in his arms, cradling her gently as he bore her to the bed and laid her gently upon the duvet, propping her up against a mountain of feather and down. "Don't fret, my Belle. You're safe now and I promise it will be a good long while before I allow you out of my sight. There's no reason for you to worry about any wee beasties you may come across … except for me, that is," he teased as he lifted her left hand and trailed his lips over the delicate abused flesh of her wrist.

She sank back into the pillows as her heart accelerated at the tingle of magic spreading languorously up her arm. It coursed through and around her, leaving her in a haze of slowly building desire as he moved to her right. "I always knew it would be the height of pleasure to have your lips on my body, Rumpelstiltskin," she whispered, her heavily-lidded cerulean eyes never leaving him for a moment.

His eyes snapped up to hers, glowing in the light of the fire as he drew in a sharp breath. "You … You thought about me touching you, Belle?" He sat back and pulled her foot into his lap, giving each of her ankles the same treatment, satisfied to see her mended flesh, no sign remaining of her time as the queen's captive.

Belle let out a low moan as his thumbs pressed into the arches of her feet, kneading away the ache. His touch was so gentle, so reverent, as if should he use too much pressure she might break. She wasn't worried if he should. He'd be there to put her back together. "Yes. The day you caught me when I fell. The day you let me see behind the mask," she murmured breathily. "I … I wanted you to carry me up to my room and strip me bare, I wanted your touch … I wanted so much, Rumpel."

He moved back up to her side and took her hands in his, kissing each of her fingertips. "What did you want, my love?" he asked, his voice a raspy croak as his heart threatened to beat out of his chest.

She colored brightly beneath his heated gaze, but her innate courage wouldn't allow her to stop now, not now when she had him beside her, his expression so open. "You, Rumpel. I want you," she breathed. "I want to feel your lips, to know your touch … to discover if you can quench the fire in my belly. But I don't want to stop there. I want to whisper my secrets in your ear, my darling. I want the day to end and know I will be able to rest my head on your shoulder and fall asleep in your arms." She carded her fingers through the slightly graying hair at his temples, a smile spreading over her lips as he leaned into her touch. "I want to share my life with you."

"Belle …"

Belle pulled him closer, one hand wrapped about his nape, her nails scratching lightly over his smooth skin beneath his hair. She peppered his jaw with kisses, carefully avoiding his lips. "I missed you so much."

"You deserve better than a monster, sweetheart, but I can't seem to find the will to deny you," he murmured, his voice husky with barely restrained passion. Already his body was answering her call, filling, tightening, until she could mold him into what it was she wanted. "I love you." The pad of his thumb brushed over her lower lip as he lowered his head, his mouth inching ever closer to hers.

Her lungs burned, her body immobile as his lips closed over hers, afraid to move as she waited for the magic to seize him. "Rum …"

This was the test … to see if the magic he'd imbued upon the ring would work, but he found he didn't care one way or the other. Everything was in place – well, almost – to cast his curse. Would it be so bad if true love broke the curse of the dark one which he'd lived with for centuries? He could no more tear his lips from hers than he could stop breathing. She was the light in his soul, the beat in his shriveled heart. If he lived until the end of time, nothing would ever be as precious to him as the taste of her lips against his.

Belle's face was wreathed in wonder as he pulled away. "You did it," she sighed in awe. "You found a way to have us both."

His eyes filled with worry as she continued to stare at him, her fingers trailing softly over his cheek. "Are you … disappointed?"

Her brow arched dubiously. "What?! No! You've found a way to retain your magic to find Baelfire and … and you can kiss me, too. I love you, Rumpelstiltskin. How could you think I'd be disappointed?" she asked, wrapping her arms about his shoulders. She nuzzled her nose against his. "Kiss me again, Rum."

With a flick of his wrist, he vanished his boots and stretched out on the bed beside her, propping himself up on an elbow. His eyes slammed shut as her lower lip slipped easily between his, a thrill of pure magic sparking along his spine and shooting out to his nerve endings. She was light and pleasure and love and she was _his_. She moaned softly as his hand curled over her hip, shifting closer to him, pressing her soft little body flush with his.

His head whirled, and his heart sang as her tongue tentatively darted out to glide along his lower lip. True love was the most powerful magic of all and he could feel the hum of it just beneath his skin. It battled against his curse, restrained by the spell in the ring he now wore. Desire coiled hotly in his belly, wrapping around to crackle along the base of his spine, but he couldn't bear to drag his lips away from her sweet mouth.

No, not now when he was finally able to partake of the nectar of her lips. It was more than he'd dared to dream, certainly more than he deserved. That his precious girl could love him at all with all his faults, his magic and his past mistakes, made his heart clench, emotion choke him and his eyes well with tears.

His Belle was goodness personified and he vowed to love her forever. Her grasping little hands had undone the golden clasps on his waistcoat and was pushing it off his shoulders before he returned to sanity enough to realize what she was doing. He tore his mouth away from hers, his eyes searching her face as he stilled her busy hands. "What … Belle, you don't want to … "

"Don't presume to tell me what I don't want, Rumpelstiltskin. I've already told you how much I want you," she purred, wresting her hands from his loose grip and resuming her quest to strip him of his clothing.

His face twisted up into a look of sheer panic. "I-I … I don't want to pressure you into anything, sweetheart. We don't have to do this tonight … or any night if you don't wish it," he stammered as she tossed the waistcoat over her shoulder to disappear into the shadows next to the bed.

Her hot little tongue dipped into the hollow of his throat and he forgot how to breathe. "Rumpel, are you saying you don't want me?" she asked, continuing a path of blazing heat along the collarbone exposed by the open collar of his shirt. He shook his head fervently, his silver tongue denying him the words to refute that claim. How could he not want her? His neck arched, allowing her more access as she suckled at the sensitive flesh beneath his ear, a little keening cry issuing from his throat as her teeth joined in the play. "Do you want me to stop?"

"Gods, no!" he cried out, desperate for her to continue. She smiled against his skin and he could feel the spread of her lips against his flesh. Her fingers trembled slightly as she worked at the buttons on his shirt, pushing him back against the pillows to give herself more room to free him. She trailed her lips over each new inch of skin she revealed, pausing in her efforts to rake her nails over his chest, her thumbs brushing lightly over his flat male nipples. His back arched, pressing himself into her touch, a low rumble echoing from low in his throat.

The sound merely spurred her on, his obvious pleasure igniting the banked embers in her blood and sending it surging throughout her body. Her fingers resumed plucking at his buttons until she could spread the material, urging him up so she could push it off his shoulders. Once freed, she pushed him back against the pillows, her nails scratching over the flat plane of his stomach as her lips peppered his chest with lingering open-mouthed kisses. His hand curled around her nape as she ran the flat of her tongue over his right nipple, his other fisting in the duvet beneath him. She smiled against his skin once more and raked her teeth over the little bud which tightened pleasantly against her lips.

She felt powerful as she raised her head to take him in. He looked completely wrecked, willingly laying himself at her mercy and praying she didn't abandon him to the need weighing so heavily upon him. The heat building between them had the potential to scorch them and she knew if she weren't careful, she'd come away burned, but she couldn't think of anything which would please her more. She wanted him to burn her with his touch, to fill her with his heat and never let go.

Rumpelstiltskin felt his control slip as her lips traced over his ribs, her teeth grazed against his belly and her tongue delved into his navel. His cock strained against his tight leathers and he cursed softly as her nose nuzzled the thin line of hair just above the waistband. "Belle, Belle … please!"

"Please what, my love?" she inquired, lifting her head to shoot him a coy grin. She trailed her fingers along the rigid bulge in his trousers, her smile positively wicked as she teased him. She cupped him in her small hand as best she could, and he howled. "Oh, methinks you like that."

"Vixen!" he growled, catching her about her waist and flipping her onto her back, covering her body with his as his control shattered. Her hips bucked against him as he settled between her legs, rubbing herself against him as his lips claimed hers. It was messy and artless, all teeth, tongue and lips, and it was beautiful. She reached between them and untied the belt of her robe, yanking it out of the way. She needed to feel her skin pressed to his and she didn't want to wait any longer.

Rumpelstiltskin gasped as his lips trailed over her neck and collarbone, nipping, suckling, biting, anything which would make Belle continue to emit those sounds of pleasure deep in her throat. His hands roamed freely over her body, the feel of her bare skin beneath his hands nearly more than he could stand. He needed more. His fingers ghosted over her breasts, her back arching into his touch, her nipples pebbling against his palms. He buried his face between them, his tongue tasting the salty sweet tang before capturing a taut bud in his mouth, treating her to the same pleasure she'd given him. He could worship at her breasts forever and a day, but he could feel her need as she writhed beneath him, could hear it in her voice, and feel it in the near painful grip she had on his hair.

He cupped her sex in his callused palm, the heel of his hand pressing into her, giving her relief and the friction she craved. His fingers skimmed along the cleft of her womanhood and she keened, her hips canting forward to welcome him. His gaze was filled with wonder as his smoldering amber eyes lifted to meet hers, the wetness which coated his fingers, stunning him to the depths of his soul. "You're wet … oh, Belle."

Belle cradled his face in her hands, drawing his lips back to hers. "I want you, Rum … only you, my love. Did you think …" she nipped sharply at his bottom lip, his penance for doubting her. "Of course, you did. When will you learn to trust me?"

Anything else she might have to say died a rapid death in her throat as he slipped a finger into her tight passage, her muscles welcoming him, clasping him tightly and clenching around him. His own low groan was swallowed down, lost in the sweet honeyed recesses of her mouth as her tongue flicked against the roof of his mouth. She was so close. He could feel the quivering of her soft thighs, the fluttering of her folds as he thrust gently, scissoring his fingers, stretching her.

He added another and crooked them, rubbing against a certain spot deep inside as his thumb circled her clit. Her nails buried themselves in the flesh of his shoulders as she came apart in his arms. He wanted to taste her, to drink her down, but didn't know if he'd be able to maintain his fragile control if he did. There would be time later to bring her off with his tongue. He'd introduce her to every pleasure known to man and then some not quite so known. He didn't care what he had to do, so long as his little Belle was happy.

She trembled, holding tightly to him as she rode out her high, her face buried in the crook of his neck as he soothed her. "Alright, sweetheart?" he whispered, pressing feather-light kisses over her brow, her eyes, the tip of her nose.

Her eyes were still dark with passion as her hands smoothed over his back, her nails digging into the taut muscles of his arse as she hooked a leg over his hip. "You … you need to be inside. I need to feel you fill me up, Rumpel. I need more of you." She reached between them to tug at the laces of his leathers. "Please …"

His eyes rolled back in his head as her hand brushed against his leather-clad cock and he didn't even want to think of trying to peel himself out of his pants. Magic surged through him with a whisper of heat, banishing the confining garment to join the rest of his clothes on the floor. There was nothing left between them, nowhere for him to hide as his self-doubt and recriminations rose to choke him.

She held tightly to him as if she could sense him withdrawing from her. Her gaze met his as her hand curled around his nape, all the love in the world shining in her eyes. "I want you, Rumpel." She pressed her brow to his as she used her heels digging into the backs of his thighs to pull him closer. "I love you. I'm yours. Have me," she panted, desperate to have him joined with her, to consummate their love.

"I love you so much, Belle," he whispered reverently against her lips. He took himself in hand, the blunt head of his cock nudging gently against her entrance. Her heat enveloped him as he slid into her, and he couldn't suppress the whimper which escaped his parted lips. She stiffened, a little cry of pain torn from her throat. He'd felt her maidenhead tear, felt her open to him like a blossoming flower, gifting him with her innocence, the price of her pleasure.

He held the lower half of his body perfectly still, not wanting to add to her pain as he cradled her face in his warm palms and captured her lower lip between his own, trying to convey without words what she meant to him, what the gift of her love meant to him. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. So sorry … unavoidable. Do you want me to stop … to heal you? Please, Belle, tell me what you want," he pleaded, brushing away the tear which slipped from the corner of her eye.

Her eyes glowed in the light of the fire as she looked up at him. The small ache had already passed, and her beloved sorcerer was nearly beside himself thinking he'd torn her asunder. She knew her words would be ineffective to banish his worries, knew it would take actions to quell his fears.

She tentatively tested her inner muscles, clenching them tightly around his cock as she tightened her legs about him and canted her hips up, drawing him in deeper. The surprised gasp falling from his parted lips and the unmistakable fire in his amber eyes assured her she'd done the right thing. "Move, my love. Show me what it is to be yours," she whispered hotly, her nails raking over his back.

His eyes locked with hers as he shunted his hips back, pulling nearly all the way out of her before sliding back in, her inner walls sucking at him, trying to draw him back in. She was so tight, so hot, her body willingly surrendering to his, and the darkness rebelled at the light flooding his soul, centuries of dark magic battling against the pure brilliance of true love.

Belle carded her fingers through his hair, bringing him down for another kiss as he began the slow torture of thrusting within her. Her beast – at least that's how everyone else saw him – so gentle, so afraid of hurting her. How anyone couldn't see the love in his heart was beyond her. His battle against his dark nature, his curse, was constant and unwavering, and as long as he continued to fight it, there was still hope for him.

She could feel the pressure building in her belly, could feel the first flutters of her inner walls as his pace quickened. He branded her with his touch, his lips, his desire to bring her pleasure the ultimate quest. He reached between them as his lips lowered to capture her nipple, sucking it gently into his mouth as his thumb circled her clit. It was all too much stimulation at once and she broke, her back bowing beneath him as she reached her peak and tumbled into the abyss, the scream bursting from her lips, music to his ears. He followed her over with a cry of his own, her clasping sheath milking him dry as he spilled himself within her.

He buried his face against the ivory column of her throat, breathing heavily as his heart stuttered to make sense of the myriad emotions surging through his body. The ring on his finger was hot, a tendril of smoke rising from the stone. He'd have to strengthen his charms and spells upon it if he were going to have more of his precious girl.

His nose nuzzled below her ear as he rolled to her side, pulling her along with him. "Are you alright, my Belle?" he whispered, his voice hoarse and incapable of sound at the moment.

Her arms tightened around his shoulders as he tried to draw back to look up into her face. "I'm perfect, Rumpel," she breathed, her eyes closed as she tried to hold on to the last moments of bliss before sleep claimed her.

Rumpelstiltskin chuckled softly, giving her hip a gentle squeeze as he agreed with her. "Yes, my Belle, you most certainly are," he murmured, following her into the arms of Morpheus.

He had her undying love … true love. As impossible as it seemed, it was true. Casting the curse to end all curses, vanquishing a troublesome queen and finding his son should be child's play in comparison. All he knew was that with Belle at his side, nothing was impossible.


End file.
